All I Want For Christmas
by featherless-wings
Summary: Mike's Christmas doesn't go according to plan...


It was Christmas Eve, but Micky wasn't feeling as excited as he usually felt at this time of year. Normally he'd be bouncing around like he was a little boy again, but this year was different. Micky _was_ looking forward to spending Christmas Day with his family, but at the same time he felt down that he couldn't spend that special day with the one person he really wanted to spend it with.

Davy and Peter had travelled home a couple of days before to stay with their families for the holidays, and Mike was travelling back to Texas that day. Micky's family didn't live far away, and he was thankful he didn't need to jump on a plane just to get home to them.

Micky had spent most of the afternoon with a couple of other friends having their own little Christmas celebration at the Vincent Van Go-Go's. Micky wasn't looking forward to going back to the empty Pad all alone - Micky liked having people around him. Mike had left that morning, and he'd probably be reunited with his family by now. Micky sighed at the thought. Micky's mother had insisted he spend the night at her house so Micky would wake up on Christmas morning with his family like he used to.

As it started to get dark, Micky decided to head back to the Pad to gather his things before heading to his mother's. He sighed as he put the key in the lock, knowing it was going to be cold and dark inside with no one home to welcome him. The Pad hadn't really been the same since Davy and Peter left, but Micky was happy that he'd had Mike around - he'd really enjoyed it just being the two of them for a couple of days.

When Micky got the door open, he was shocked to see the lights on inside. He was even more shocked to see a gloomy-looking Mike sat on the couch.

"Mike!" Micky gasped, startled to see the Texan.

Mike looked up, smiling weakly at his friend. "Hey, Mick."

"What are you- what are you doing here?" Micky asked, his voice rising in pitch.

"I missed my flight." Mike responded glumly, his shoulders slumped.

Micky closed the door behind him. "What? How the hell did you manage that?" He asked as he walked over to where Mike was sitting.

"The cab was late gettin' here, and then we got stuck in traffic. By the time I got to the airport, the flight had just left; I only missed it by two minutes." Mike sighed, running his fingers through his thick, dark hair.

"Why didn't you get another flight?" Micky wondered, sitting down next to the sombre-looking Texan.

"They were too expensive." Mike muttered quietly, unable to look at Micky. "If I spent all I had on the flight, there's no way we'd make next month's rent."

Micky felt terrible - Mike was always putting the others before himself. So many times Micky, Davy and Peter had failed to reach their share of the rent; Davy blew his money on dates, Micky had a habit of buying weird and wonderful objects or tools to make his odd creations, and Peter… well, nobody really knew _where_ Peter's money went. But Mike would always bail them out with nothing more than a sigh or a tut.

"You didn't have to do that." Micky said softly, his voice dripping with guilt. "You should've just gone, we'd have figured something out."

Mike shook his head, looking up at his friend. "You heard what Mr Babbit said last time; we can't keep bein' late with the rent. If we push our luck much further we'll all be lookin' for somewhere else to live."

Micky rubbed his face with his hand. "I'm so sorry, man. Seriously, you should've just gone. It's Christmas - you should be with your family."

Mike shrugged his shoulders. "It ain't no big deal. I called my mom and explained… She's upset, but she'll be okay."

"Well what are you going to do tomorrow?" Micky questioned, snapping himself out of his guilt and sadness for his friend.

Mike shrugged once more. "I dunno. I ain't really thought about it. I guess I'll just hang out here." He looked around the room.

"No way." Micky said with with a look of determination, narrowing his almond-shaped eyes as the obvious solution jumped into his head. "You're going to spend Christmas with me and my family instead."

Mike looked up. "What- no, Micky." He shook his head. "I ain't gonna impose like that."

"You won't. You know my mom, she loves having people around her. The more the merrier, that's what she always says!" Micky said enthusiastically.

Micky could clearly see Mike looked uncomfortable. "No… That wouldn't be right. They're _you're_ family, not mine. I'll just be there feelin' like an intruder or something."

"Don't be stupid." Micky said, waving his hand dismissively. "They're my family, but you're my _friend_. How will I have a good time knowing you're here all on your own?"

Mike smiled sympathetically. "I'll be okay, Micky."

"Yeah you will, because you're coming with me." Micky wasn't one for letting things go, and this was no exception.

"_Micky_…" Mike sighed, clearly touched by his friend's persistence.

"If you don't go, I won't go either. So we'll both spend Christmas here, miserable and together." Micky warned, folding his arms like a child not getting his own way.

"Okay, okay." Mike held up his arms, surrendering to Micky. "_Okay_. I'll come. But only if it's good with your mom. I don't want her going to any extra trouble 'cause of me."

"She won't, she loves it. She always cooks enough food to last us until February so it's not as if we won't be able to feed you." Micky said with a smile on his face, excited at the idea of spending Christmas with his best friend.

"Thanks, Micky." Mike said with genuine gratitude. "This really means a lot."

"Don't mention it." Micky grinned. "You'll be helping me out, actually. I always get bombarded with questions, you know. Like when I'm going to get a steady girlfriend, or when we're going to get a steady gig. They worry too much, all of them, always asking me loads of questions I can't answer. At least you'll be there to back me up."

Mike laughed. "Great, so that's the _real_ reason you wanted me to come. Not 'cause you were worried about me being on my own." He joked.

Micky's face fell, and he shook his head dramatically. "No. No, that's not why at all. I do really want you to come."

"Mick, I'm just kiddin' with ya." Mike replied with a smile. "I'm just messin' around."

"Oh…" Micky felt a little silly. "Well… good."

Mike sighed, looking around the room. Even though the boys didn't have a lot of money to blow on decorations, the Pad did look lovely and Christmassy. They'd managed to get hold of a nice big tree on the cheap, thanks to a friend of Peter's, there was tinsel twirled around the rail up the spiral staircase, and Davy - never one to miss a trick when it came to the ladies - had splashed out on some mistletoe to hang around their open-planned house; "just in case we have any birds over."

The two young men were quiet for a few moments. Although Micky was pleased and satisfied that Mike had agreed to spend Christmas with family Dolenz, he still felt horribly bad that his friend wouldn't get to see his own family this Christmas. Mike rarely got to travel back to Texas to see his family and friends from back home; there was always something getting in the way. Micky knew Mike felt responsible for the rest of the group; he was the leader, after all, although none of them had ever sat down and discussed that matter - it was just the way it was. From day one, Mike had slipped into the role of the man in charge, and that was the way everyone liked it. That was the way it worked best.

But Micky was starting to realise how much they all took Mike for granted. Mike didn't think anything of missing out on seeing his family for the sake of a good gig or putting food in the others' mouths. One time Mike even cancelled a trip because Peter had accidentally kicked a ball through a neighbour's window after playing soccer on the beach. Peter couldn't afford to pay for the broken glass, so Mike dished out instead to save Peter getting into even more trouble. That was just the kind of guy Mike was.

Micky leaned forward, his hands clasped, and he sighed regretfully. "I'm sorry…" Micky said quietly after a long silence.

Mike looked up. "What is this "I'm sorry" thing? It ain't your fault I missed my flight."

When Micky turned to the Texan, he could see Mike looking at him with a puzzled expression. Mike wasn't used to Micky being serious, or sounding overly sincere, and Micky knew his sombre voice had thrown the slightly older man.

"I know, but… well, this isn't exactly how you planned on spending Christmas." Micky replied. "It's Christmas Eve; you thought you were going to be with your family, and instead you're stuck here with me."

Mike smiled. It was a warm, genuine smile that made Micky's insides do a little dance. "I don't mind." Was all Mike said.

Micky quickly looked away. He took a deep breath, inwardly shaking himself out of his little moment. "At least we have a tree." He said, staring at the sparkling lights that covered the branches of their large Christmas tree.

"Yeah." Mike nodded, following Micky's gaze to the almost-7ft-tall tree. "It's much better than last years."

"Last years was a major let down." Micky laughed, looking back. "And remember when Davy and Peter fought over who got to put the star on top?"

Mike chuckled. "Oh, god." He said, putting his hand to his forehead. "Peter was in such a bad mood 'cause Davy wouldn't let him put the star on top. I don't know why Davy didn't just let Pete do it. I thought he were gonna cry at one point."

Micky shook his head in disbelief. "Davy can be such a dick." He laughed. "Oh well, at least Peter got to do it this year."

"Yeah." Mike nodded. "God, how did we end up in a band with those two?"

"I don't know, but as annoying as they are, I wouldn't change them." Micky said thoughtfully. "Well… not _totally_ change them, anyway."

"Me neither." Mike agreed, thinking about his absent band mates. "It's weird not having them around."

"Yeah… It's strangely quiet." Micky looked around once more.

"Well, it ain't _that_ quiet," Mike begun, looking at the curly haired man. "I mean, _you're_ still here. It ain't ever gonna be too quiet with _you_ around."

Micky gasped dramatically. "Are you saying I'm loud?!" He said in a stupid, dorky, high pitched voice.

Mike raised his eyebrows, causing Micky to laugh.

"Right," Mike slapped his thighs before rising to his feet. "I'm gonna take a shower. Just bein' at an airport makes me feel dirty, even if I ain't been on a plane."

Micky also stood up. "Have you eaten?"

"Yeah, I grabbed a quick bite earlier, but I'm still pretty hungry." Mike replied.

"Well I'm pretty sure we've still got some mince pies left over. Do you wanna help me finish them when you're done?" Micky asked.

"Ain't you got somewhere you need to be tonight?" Mike wondered, giving Micky a confused look.

Micky paused for a second, thinking about how much his mom wanted him to stay the night. "No." He replied, shaking his head. "I was just gonna hang out here."

"Oh, okay then." Mike shrugged. "Well yeah, that sounds groovy."

"Cool." Micky smiled.

Mike made his way into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Micky found himself staring at the bathroom door for a few moments, and he sighed to himself before heading into the kitchen in search of mince pies.

While Mike was busy taking a shower, Micky called his mother. He explained that he wouldn't be staying the night because "something had come up", and he asked her if it was okay that Mike joined them on Christmas Day. As Micky suspected, his mother was completely fine with the idea, although she wasn't too pleased that she wouldn't be spending Christmas Eve with her only son. Micky protested, explaining that he was a big boy now who had his own life and his own friends. In the end Micky's mom accepted the change of plan.

When Micky had finished sweet talking his mother, he grabbed a bottle of brandy and two glasses from the kitchen to go along with the mince pies. Micky wasn't a big brandy drinker, but he figured it was Christmas and decided to get into the Christmas spirit. Micky dimmed the lights, lit a candle and found some carols playing on TV. When Micky stepped back, he cringed a little at the sight in front of him; the mince pies, brandy for two, a candle and carols playing sweetly in the background - it almost looked romantic. Micky felt the candle might be a bit much, so he blew it out.

Mike wasn't long in the bathroom, and he soon emerged with a towel tied around his slender waist. Micky looked away quickly as Mike re-entered the room, unable to look at the half-naked Texan for too long without feeling rather uncomfortable… or, actually, without feeling _too_ comfortable.

"I found the mince pies." Micky announced, glancing at Mike as he roughly towel-dried his dark hair. "And there was some brandy in the back of the cupboard from last year. I thought you could do with a drink."

"Great. Thanks, man." Mike responded. "I'll get myself dressed and then I'll join ya."

Micky watched as Mike climbed the stairs to their bedroom. He shifted a little awkwardly in his seat as he watched the tall Texan. Micky's feelings for his friend had developed dramatically over the past year, and each day he felt them get stronger and stronger. Micky cringed just thinking about it, wondering what on earth Mike would think of him if he ever discovered his little secret.

Mike emerged a few minutes later, now wearing his pyjamas, and he descended the stairs to join Micky.

"Yeah, I know, it's pretty sad that I'm in my pyjamas before 9'o'clock, but it ain't like I got anywhere else to be." Mike joked as he sat down next to his friend.

"Aww, I think your PJs are cute." Micky teased, scrunching his face up at his friend. He picked up a glass of brandy. "Here, drink this." Micky said, handing Mike the glass.

Mike took a sip and winced. "Damn, this is strong. Are you trying to get me drunk?" He joked.

"No." Micky replied a little defensively. "I mean, you can get drunk if you want - it _is_ Christmas. I'm not sure my mom would be too pleased if we rocked up hung-over tomorrow, though."

Mike laughed, taking another sip.

"I called my mom, by the way." Micky announced, picking up his own glass. "She's totally cool with you coming tomorrow."

"Really?" Mike gave Micky a suspcious look. "I don't want you just sayin' that. You can be honest, you know. If she don't want me there, I won't go."

"Relax, will you?" Micky laughed. "She's seriously fine with it, she really likes you - she actually sounded pretty excited. Thinking about it, she was probably _too_ excited about it… I think she might have a crush on you."

Mike raised his eyebrows suggestively. "Well, your mom is an attractive woman…"

"Hey!" Micky shouted, laughing and cringing at the same time. "Eww, don't say that. I was only joking."

Mike laughed. "'Course you were. Besides, she's a little old for me… Maybe she should try Davy instead; he likes an older lady."

"Seriously, that is so gross." Micky giggled, feeling somewhat disgusted. "Don't even go there."

"Hey man, you brought it up." Mike jabbed Micky on the arm.

"Yeah, that's true." Micky conceded. He then shuddered at the thought of Davy taking his mother out on a date. "Yuck."

"I don't think a good-lookin' lady like your mother would be interested in someone like me anyway." Mike chuckled, helping himself to a mince pie.

Micky's face fell. "Why do you say that?"

Mike shrugged. "Well, out of the four of us, I hardly get the most attention from chicks, do I?"

Micky shook his head in disagreement, inwardly feeling annoyed by Mike's lack of confidence. "You _do_ get interest from chicks, you just don't make it easy for them to approach you."

"I don't?" Mike questioned, biting into the pastry.

"No, you don't. But chicks_ totally_ dig you, man. You just don't seem to dig _them_, that's the problem." Micky went on, he too reaching for the plate of mince pies. "We've tried to fix you up with loads of girls, haven't we? But you always say you're not interested."

Mike shrugged, taking another bite of mince pie. "Maybe I'm just too fussy. Or maybe I just think they feel sorry for me or somethin'."

It surprised Micky hearing Mike talk like this, as he was usually quite guarded with his feelings and rarely spoke about his relationships with women - or _lack_ of relationships, as the case may be.

"Why wouldn't girls be interested in you, man?" Micky wondered. "You're like the grooviest guy I know."

Mike looked at his friend, and Micky thought he almost looked a little touched by that comment. "Well that's nice to hear. Thanks."

Micky felt a little embarrassed, and decided to change the subject. "These mince pies are nice."

"Mmm, they're really good." Mike said, stuffing the rest in his mouth. "The brandy's good too."

"I thought I'd make a little effort, though I doubt it really compares to what your mom probably had in store for you when you got home." Micky sighed. "I'm really sorry about that, man."

"I told ya, it ain't your fault." Mike said seriously. "It don't matter now."

"I know, but I feel bad about it. I wish there was something I could do… You do so much for us, and the _one thing_ you want, you can't have." Micky slumped back on the couch.

"There are lots of things I want that I can't have." Mike said seriously. Micky to looked up, wondering exactly what the Texan meant. "Come on, Mick. I don't want you feelin' bad about this. Besides, you _are_ doing something for me; you're letting me spend Christmas with your family." Mike narrowed his eyes, assuring his friend. "Seriously, babe. Don't sweat it."

Micky sighed sadly. He could feel Mike's eyes burning into him, telling him to stop feeling guilty. Micky sat forward, and he puffed his cheeks, blowing out a breath and staring ahead. "Tell me about your best Christmas." He said, turning to look at his friend.

"My best Christmas?" Mike wore a confused look.

"Yeah, your favourite, most memorable Christmas ever. I wanna hear about it." Micky pulled his legs up onto the couch, twisting himself so he was facing Mike. He folded his arms with an intrigued look.

Mike watched Micky for a second before sitting back, and he wore a thoughtful expression. "Hmm…" He mumbled as he pondered Micky's question. "Well… I think it were when I was a boy. It's going to sound really dumb, though."

Micky smiled, watching Mike intently. "Go on, tell me."

Mike looked at the curly haired man and sighed, giving in. "I don't remember how old I was exactly, maybe seven or eight. We didn't have a lot of money, and uh, well…I'd always been taught not to expect too much for Christmas, you know? Like I always appreciated what we had, and what I got, but uh… I knew I weren't gonna get as much as the other kids I knew, because my mom couldn't afford a lot. But our Christmases were always amazin', even when we didn't have much. I mean, it didn't feel like we didn't have much, if that makes sense, 'cause I never knew any different. It's only lookin' back that I realise what a struggle it must've been for Ma."

Mike scratched his head, and Micky continued to watch on with intrigue. Mike didn't look at Micky as he spoke; instead he looked straight ahead as he recalled his Christmas memory.

"Anyway," Mike continued. "This one Christmas, I really wanted a red fire truck that I'd seen in a store window in the city. It was a toy one, obviously, not an actual real fire truck… But anyway, I really dug it, and I remember asking my mom for it. I never asked my mom for anythin', but I asked her for _that_. And I remember her face, as clear as day; I remember she looked real down. She looked so disappointed as she explained that Santa's elves probably wouldn't be able to make another fire truck like the one I wanted…"

Mike trailed off, looking a little embarrassed. "I know it's stupid."

"It's not stupid." Micky said gently, still staring at his friend closely. "But I did ask for a _happy_ story."

Mike looked up. He wore a small smile as he looked at the younger man. "Well, I ain't finished." He said, his warm eyes shining brightly at Micky. "So, Christmas morning came, and I had no idea what to expect. And I opened my presents, loads of little bits and pieces, you know. And I was real happy with what I got. But then later that afternoon, my mom pulled out this big box. I don't even know where she hid it, but suddenly it was there, in the middle of the room, especially for me. And I had no idea what was inside, but when I opened it-"

"…The fire truck?" Micky wondered, his eyes wide and his face lighting up.

Mike nodded. "There it was, in my livin' room. I have no idea how my mom managed to afford it, but seeing her face when I opened it… Well, it was almost as good as the present itself. _Almost_."

Micky smiled from ear to ear, strangely moved by Mike's story. Micky had never had it tough growing up, and he'd always received loads of great presents every Christmas. Mike didn't talk about his childhood often, but hearing Mike's story about his favourite Christmas melted Micky's heart.

"I told you it was dumb." Mike laughed, embarrassed, and Micky noticed his cheeks flush red.

"Are you kidding?" Micky questioned, wide-eyed. "That was such a great story. I'm so happy you got that fire truck."

"I think I played with it every day for about two years." Mike chuckled, looking back. "I'm pretty sure my mom still has it at her place."

Micky smiled. "Maybe one day you can show it to me."

Mike looked at his friend, clearly wondering why on earth Micky would be interested in an old toy. Micky smiled at the Texan, and he looked away feeling a little embarrassed once more.

Mike cleared his throat. "So what about you, Mick?" He asked.

"What about me?" Micky wondered.

"Well you asked me a question about Christmas, so now it's my turn." Mike begun, grabbing another mince pie as he spoke. "If you could have one thing this Christmas, anything in the world, what would it be?"

Micky suddenly felt a little uncomfortable. He laughed nervously. "Oh, I don't really know."

"'Course you know. How can you not know? There's got to be_ something_." Mike pressed. "It don't matter what it is; however big or small, no matter what the price. What's the _one thing_ you want more than anything else?"

Micky scratched his head, an awkward smile on his face. Usually he was good at lying or hiding the truth, but the way Mike was looking at him made Micky feel slightly vulnerable.

Micky laughed nervously once more. "Well… I'm not gonna tell you."

"Why not?" Mike wondered, looking confused as he bit into his mince pie.

"Because- because if you make a wish and then tell someone what it is, it won't come true." Micky replied, cringing inside as soon as the words left his lips. _You sound like such a child! _A voice told him.

"Yeah but this is different. I mean, if I didn't tell my mom I wanted the fire truck, she never would've known to get it for me." Mike hit back.

Micky smiled. "Well… like you with the fire truck, I_ really_ want it. But unlike the fire truck, I know I'm not gonna get it."

"How do you know if you don't say what it is?" Mike looked genuinely intrigued. "No one will know to buy it for you if you don't say what it is."

"It's not really something you can_ buy_." Micky looked down shyly, and he felt a little flushed.

"Oh." Mike looked slightly stumped. Micky glanced awkwardly at his friend. "Is it a girl?"

Micky cringed even more. "No… it's not a girl."

Mike clearly sensed Micky's discomfort. "Well I ain't gonna force you to tell me if you don't want to."

"It's stupid anyway." Micky leaned forward, grabbing his glass of brandy and taking a large swig. "It doesn't really matter much."

Mike smiled. "If you say so." He said.

The subject was soon changed, and the two friends spoke for hours about Christmas and all the adventures of the past year. They raised a glass to absent friends - Davy and Peter - and ended up getting a little tipsy from the brandy they were knocking back.

Mike and Micky were unsure how long they'd been talking, laughing, drinking and eating, but they figured it was probably getting rather late.

Micky yawned. "We should probably go to bed." He said, stretching himself out. "I mean, to _sleep_. My mom likes me to come over really early so I can see my little sisters open all their presents."

"That sounds like fun." Mike smiled. "I think it would've been groovy to have brothers or sisters growing up."

"They're a pain in the ass, but I love them." Micky giggled. "Just to warn you, they get really excitable and hyper. They're a lot to handle."

"Well they obviously take after their big brother, don't they?" Mike asked with a smile. "_You're_ excitable and hyper half the time, and I manage to handle _you._"

Micky grinned. "Shut up." He giggled, rising to his feet.

Mike stood up also, stretching as he did so. Micky went to the TV and switched it off, while Mike collected the empty glasses from the table. Micky followed Mike into the kitchen with the crumbed-plate that formally carried the mince pies that they had polished off over the course of the evening.

"Those mince pies were delicious." Micky said, setting the plate beside the sink.

"Mmm. I'm glad we got to have them all to ourselves." Mike replied, rubbing his belly in satisfaction.

Micky turned to face his friend, and Mike smiled warmly at the curly haired man.

"Thanks for tonight, Mick." Mike said with a smile.

Micky looked confused. "I didn't do anything."

"You hung out with me when you could've been out with your family and friends." Mike said seriously. "And you invited me along tomorrow, which really means a lot. To be honest, I wasn't really digging the idea of Christmas here on my own."

"Well that was never gonna happen." Micky tilted his head to the side, smiling at the Texan. "I was never going to leave you here on your own."

Mike smiled, and he tilted his head back as he sighed contently. A look of amusement suddenly covered Mike's face, and he chuckled quietly to himself.

"What is it?" Micky asked, totally confused by Mike's expression.

"_Davy_…" Mike muttered, shaking his head as he laughed.

Micky had no idea what Mike was on about. "What about him?"

Mike pointed upwards, and Micky followed Mike's direction to see some mistletoe hanging from the beam directly above their heads.

"We're underneath the mistletoe." Mike giggled.

Micky felt his face fill with heat, and he was unable to look the Texan in the eye. All Micky could do was laugh nervously.

"You're blushing." Mike said, amused. "I've never seen you blush before."

"I-I'm not blushing." Micky said quickly. "It's the brandy. It's made my face hot." He slapped his cheeks gently.

Mike simply smiled, and Micky managed to bring himself to look at his friend.

"Thankfully no one is here telling us to kiss." Micky joked, laughing awkwardly.

Mike carried on smiling. "Ain't it meant to be bad luck to stand under the mistletoe with someone and not kiss 'em?"

Micky felt his heart begin to pound, and suddenly he found it impossible to laugh even nervously anymore. "I-I don't know… Is it?"

Mike gave a small shrug of the shoulders. "I don't know either." He scratched his head thoughtfully.

Micky gulped, trying to read his friend's expression. He knew Mike had to be joking, just fooling around to wind Micky up, but something about Mike's face seemed _different_. But maybe that was just the brandy.

The two friends stood awkwardly under the mistletoe. Micky had no idea what was going on, and he felt stupid that he wasn't just brushing this moment off or playing Mike at his own game. In this exact situation with anyone else, Micky would find it hilarious. Just a few days before Davy had left for England, Micky found himself under the mistletoe by the front door with the short-man, and he'd ended up chasing Davy through the Pad before pinning him to the couch and planting a sloppy, wet kiss on the Englishman's cheek - much to Davy's horror.

Standing here with Mike, though, wasn't even remotely amusing to Micky, and instead a part of him wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

"I don't think we should risk it, you know, the bad luck." Mike said, finally breaking the silence that Micky felt had been lasting forever - when in actuality, it had only been a few seconds. "Remember when Peter broke that mirror? He got food poisoning just two days later."

"He ate raw chicken because the oven broke." Micky responded quietly, his eyes fixed nervously on his slightly taller friend.

"I still don't think we should risk it." Mike repeated, staring straight back.

Micky just stood there, dumbstruck, as Mike took a step closer. Micky found himself staring into the Texan's eyes, and Mike was staring straight back with a look Micky was still unable to understand.

"I'm going to kiss you now." Mike said quietly, stepping forward once more.

Micky visibly gulped, the heat rising through his body and his heart pounding in his chest. _He's challenging you! This is a dare! He's not actually going to kiss you, you idiot!_

Despite the voice in Micky's head, Micky didn't turn away or step back. All he could do was stand there, frozen to the spot, as Mike closed the gap between their faces.

Micky closed his eyes, part in anticipation of the kiss that would probably never come, and partly because he couldn't bear to watch Mike pull away at the last second, laughing about how there was no way he'd ever kiss a guy. Because Mike would _never_ kiss a guy, surely, not even as a _joke_.

But all Micky could feel (apart from his heart slamming against his ribs and his skin feeling like it was being burned off his body) was Mike's soft lips press against his. And it all seemed to go blank after that.

Mike's lips were so _soft_. The Texan's bottom lip that Micky had always adored from afar, felt nice and plump against Micky's own thinner lips. Micky could taste brandy and mince pies all over again, and although he'd enjoyed both tastes earlier on, they seemed to taste a hundred times more delicious now.

Finally, after a second or two - or maybe it had been an hour or two, Micky couldn't be sure - Micky's lips connected with his brain, and he kissed Mike back. It was only a small, soft kiss. It wasn't as if they were ramming their tongues into each other's mouths. But a kiss it was, all the same, and a perfect kiss at that.

Mike slowly pulled back. Micky managed to open his eyes as the kiss was broken, and he saw Mike staring straight into his soul. Micky gulped again, unable to process what had just happened or the reason behind it.

Mike took a small step back, though he was still close in front of Micky. They stared at each other, both looking a little nervous and unsure. Micky had no idea what to think or what to say. Mike had already had enough bad luck that day, what with missing his flight, and Micky assumed the only possible reason his friend could've just kissed him was because he was fearful of any more bad luck that might come his way if he didn't obey the Power of the Mistletoe.

"Can I tell you something, Micky?" Mike asked, breaking the silence. His voice sounded ever so slightly shaky and nervous.

Micky simply looked at Mike, wondering what on earth he was going to say.

"I'm really glad I missed that flight." Mike said softly, suddenly growing in confidence, a tiny smile teasing his lips.

Micky frowned. "W-Why?" He asked in little more than a puzzled whisper.

"Because it means I get to spend Christmas with you." Mike replied, still staring directly at the curly haired man.

Micky felt his jaw drop. He didn't even have time to think about how stupid he must've looked, but his mind was spinning at a hundred miles per hour. Micky opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out; he was totally and utterly flawed.

"First I'd never see you blush before, and now I'm seeing you speechless. I _never_ thought I'd see you speechless." Mike said with a small, warm smile, and his eyes were looking at Micky with a gentle gaze.

Micky swallowed, trying to understand if this moment was even real or not. "I guess there's a first time for everything." He finally managed to say.

Mike's smile grew, and he simply watched Micky curiously.

"How did you know I'd kiss you back?" Micky wondered, his brain finally regaining the ability to function.

"I don't know…" Mike replied, unsure, and he scratched his dark hair thoughtfully. "I just _knew_. I dunno… I had this feelin' you would. I don't know why."

Micky suddenly felt a rush inside, and it felt like magic. It felt like the feeling he used to get on Christmas Eve; that feeling of excitement and wonder about what the following day would bring. It was that exact same feeling inside right now, only this time it had a little something extra added to it; _Mike_.

"You can kiss me again if you like." Micky suggested, a shy smile teasing his lips.

Mike beamed at his friend, stepping forward once more. He carefully took Micky's face in his hands, and he slowly leaned forward so he could press his lips against Micky's.

Micky wrapped his arms around the tall Texan's neck, and this time their kiss felt more assured and real than before. Micky couldn't even believe this was happening - it all seemed too good to be true.

Micky and Mike kissed in the kitchen for several minutes. As time went on, they both grew in confidence which resulted in the kiss getting a little hotter. They explored each other's mouths with their tongues, and Micky even plucked up the courage to nibble on Mike's delicious bottom lip. Mike smiled in response, pulling Micky closer and deeper into their kiss as their passion grew.

Finally, they broke apart, both a little breathless and blushing sweetly. Micky let out a little giggle, looking away bashfully, while Mike simply smiled at the floor.

"I don't get this." Micky managed to say, looking up at his friend. "We were just _kissing_."

Mike nodded, bringing his eyes up to meet Micky's. "Yeah…" He said quietly.

Micky watched Mike closely, wondering what he was thinking. "I've wanted to do that for a long time." He admitted, his face blushing even redder. He looked down quickly.

"Really?" Mike wondered, tilting his head to the side. "Because I have, too. I had no idea you wanted to do that."

Micky looked up. "But you made the first move. I never would've made a move on you; I was too scared you'd knock me into next week." He let out a little laugh.

Mike looked serious, and he shook his head. "No way." He said, reaching up to gently touch Micky's hair.

"This is so weird." Micky said, his voice filled with wonder and disbelief.

"I can't believe I kissed you." Mike's eyes widened as he seemed to process what had just happened. "I never kiss _anyone_."

Micky smiled, and he glanced upwards at the mistletoe hanging above their heads. "I'm pretty glad Davy put that there, especially after we told him it was stupid."

"It's almost like it was meant to be." Mike gazed at his curly haired friend, a warm smile on his face.

Micky's eyes locked with Mike's, and they beamed at each other for several moments before Micky said; "Why don't we go to bed?"

Micky and Mike climbed the spiral stairs to their bedroom, and they both ended up squishing together in Micky's single bed. Micky and Mike kissed and cuddled for ages, their lips and hands nervously roaming and exploring each other's bodies for the first time.

Once they felt a bit braver, they stripped each other of their clothes. Their kisses eventually filled with more fire, and their hands with more urgency, but they both knew not to push each other too far at this early stage. Being red blooded men who were clearly attracted to each other, their bodies did respond to their passionate embrace. They touched each other, awkwardly at first, but they eventually got into it, bringing each other to their peak at about the same time. They had both been tempted to do a little more, but they silently understood and agreed that there was no rush to go any further just yet.

Afterwards, they laid quietly in each other's arms, hardly able to believe what had happened between them - but certainly not regretting it.

Mike eventually lifted his head to look at the clock that sat on the nightstand next to Micky's bed; it was 12:40am - Christmas Day.

"Micky?" Mike whispered, breaking the peaceful silence that had filled their room.

"Hmm?" Micky replied lazily.

"It's past midnight." Mike announced.

Micky lifted his sleepy head that had been resting on Mike's lightly-haired chest. "Christmas Day." He smiled, looking at his new lover.

Mike nodded, running his fingers through Micky's curly hair, gazing at the man on top of him.

"Wow…" Micky said, his eyes filling with wonder. "I think Christmas wishes really can come true."

Mike looked at Micky curiously, clearly failing to understand what he meant.

"_You_, silly." Micky smiled, pressing the tip of Mike's nose and gazing at the Texan dreamily. "_You're_ my Christmas wish. All I wanted for Christmas was you."

Mike's face shone brighter than Micky could ever recall seeing it, and he beamed lovingly at his friend-turned-lover. "Merry Christmas, Micky."

"Merry Christmas, Mike."

~The End?~


End file.
